Ocean Carnage
by Zombiebrainz
Summary: Fire rolled off of an ocean-bound wreckage, what remained of a boat nothing more than carnage just barely bobbing above the surface. But along with the shattered planks of wood, two men floated alongside. multi-chapter, legend of korra, possibility of amon x tarrlok. some even at present if you squint real hard.
1. Chapter 1

Water lapped and tugged at the bobbing wreckage with the gentle touch of a mother, the calm ocean waters encouraging what remained of an exploded boat into its depth. For an eternal burial, forever to rest upon the sea floor. An engine was tugged underneath, its weight pulling it down and down, until it no longer peeked up above the wavering surface of water and gave in to what was inevitable. As sea birds cried and dove deep into the waters in hunt of fish, ignoring the scene of destruction, their vigorous hunting was abruptly halted by movement that did not belong to their own kind. Frightened into flight, the birds scattered away from a moving form that was most certainly not fish.

Clothes thoroughly bogged down with water and lungs brimming with the salt-filled liquid, the first reflex of waking up from such a disastrous event was to cough. And cough the newly awakened man did, air unable to find its way into his system when his lungs were already busy with the water that had been taken in. Blood intermixed as all of his lungs contents were spilled back into the ocean where it belonged, the watery coughing turned dry as nothing else was left to be expelled. Swallowing large gulps of air greedily, clutching at the thick plank of wood that he had been miraculously placed upon in the explosion of the boat, commonly known Amon, true name Noatok, sagged wearily against his sure lifesaver. If it weren't for the hunk of wood that now served another purpose aside from a building block to a boat, he was more than certain that he would be dead. Drowned in the ocean, seeing as how the flickering flames that reminded of what had occurred had been gobbled up quite quickly by the vast waters.

It had been a close call, his Equalist clothing singed and torn away in most places, his brunette hair disheveled from its combed, neat state. Face littered with scratches and hints of burns, the damage at least did not mimic the faux image of scarring that replicated a true burn created in order to further instill the identity of Amon. That would have been sheer, cruel irony.

Sore and aching, recollection of what had occurred flashed by the forefront of his foggy mind in bits and pieces as he rested against the floating wood, trying to recover himself. He and Tarrlok, his younger brother, had been sailing off to a new life. It had seemed perfect.  
There was no doubt that despite the horrors they both endured through childhood and the drastic changes as adults they suffered due to their revenge-crazed father he still loved and adored his sibling like he had been they had been young and innocent. It was an affection carried strong through his change from Noatok to Amon, the cunning leader of the Equalist party that desired nothing more than to eliminate all bending, to create a world of equality.

Now, of course, that group was gone, erased upon the forced revelation of his own bending.

But he had been willing to put that into the past! All in the name of starting fresh with his brother, all in the name of living the life he and Tarrlok had missed out on due to their lives as mere soldiers of revenge, brainwashed into the mindset of their father. Now, here he was in the middle of the ocean, far from Republic City, on nothing more than a hunk of tree that no longer served its purpose as a boat. The engine was gone, from what he could tell with his eyes so fuzzy from what he supposed was a head injury, and vital parts had already sunk due to their weight.

And where was Tarrlok?

While there was no doubt in his mind as to who had brought this destruction upon the two of them—He was certainly smarter than that, even with in his current state – his panic was not any less. Envisioning his drowned body beneath the ocean current, utilized as some sort of cruel nesting area for fish to lay their eyes, water splashed around him as he twisted from his spot to better hunt for his younger sibling. That adoration that made him so attached, caused him to refuse to break away and had made him refuse to truly eliminate his brother despite the danger he had posed, elicited such a deep terror it could not be expressed through either words or body language.

Finding his throat too constricted to speak, dry from the fire and raw from the salt water, Tarrlok's name eluded his lips as Amon – no, Noatok now, that name served no purpose to him now – searched desperately. Finally, after nearly tumbling off of his makeshift raft in his sharp movements, pain spiraling down his damaged back from every jerk and shifting, his eyes landed upon a body in blue bobbing just above the water. Without any further thought upon his next course of action, something he hardly ever did, Noatok, utilizing what little strength he carried in his weakened body now, managed to bend the water around to gently nudge himself and his little raft to where Tarrlok floated.

It appeared his brother had not stirred quite yet, Noatok relieved to find him facing up rather than down, his chest rising and falling. It seemed that while he had not been cast upon one of the hunks of wood to float upon, he at least didn't take in enough water to drown. Looking around in order to double check that the two were certainly alone, having the vague feeling that perhaps a search party would be sent out in order to try and capture him, Noatok found that Lady Luck was upon their side. In a way, he supposed. Some medical assistance would have been appreciated, but alas, they would have to figure that out at a later point.

Loyalty to his brother keeping strong despite the sure betrayal, his arm hooked around Tarrlok's midsection, drawing him close in order to heft him onto the plank of wood, which held both of their weight combined well. Finding this good fortune to be much appreciated after the fall through of his plans, his hopes, and his dreams, Noatok took in a deep breath to steady his wavering mind, consciousness flickering in and out. Quite near passing out, he wasn't about to give in quite yet, the water around them beginning to churn as he made a slight motion with his hand, the ocean finding the mercy in it to push the two men towards the faint hint of shoreline he spotted upon the horizon rather than suck underneath and drown them both.

Perhaps there was some hope left.

**Author's Note;;**

Derp. Last episode of Legend of Korra had me so giddy and so sad and all the emotions oh gosshh. Couldn't resist writing a fic, and I suppose if you squint, it could be considered Noatok x Tarrlok. Because of my eternal love of Amon, of course I had to make sure he lives! Damaged and quite injured, a little fuzzy in mind, but alive and well. And as is Tarrlock, though I am sure a lot of you guys loathe him. I kinda do. Kinda don't. It is a love hate relationship :B

Should I make this into another story, aside from my currently running Further Travels?  
I'll be contemplating that question while my muse for Korra remains c; THANK YOU FOR READING!


	2. Chapter 2

Warmth.

Flickering in and out, splashing across clammy skin made cold by ocean waters. It was a familiar sensation, drawing back bittersweet memories of the frozen arctic, of a stern father and a growingly distant brother. Hints and suggestions of poorly veiled affection also arrived at the forefront of a slowly stirring mind, vision gradually coming into focus. The scene was set, a blazing fire kept fed by pieces of a former boat and twigs and branches from the land.  
Wait… Land?

From curled up peacefully upon the soft sand of a foreign beach, former Councilman Tarrlok abruptly jerked up into a makeshift sitting position. Nearly toppling back over as pain erupted from the small of his back, more than likely damage taken from the explosion, he winced. His first reflex was to try and touch the injury to check that there was nothing broken, nothing terribly severe, though he was unable to feel any other part of his body injured to that extreme. Trying to reach up, he was only to find his hands had been immobilized. Biting into his wrists were thick, long leaves tied together like ropes, a clever usage of the native plant life upon what he assumed was an island. An island he certainly had never visited, by how desolate it looked to his foggy eyes.

"I see you are awake, brother."

Tensing, his mind, slowly coming into focus, put the puzzle pieces the moment he heard that familiar, deep voice. Reminded all too well of his earlier confinement, a memory too fresh for his liking, he carefully turned his head in case he also suffered injury to his skull. Precautions like this had to be taken after trying to kill oneself and their brother in a boat explosion. It seemed his luck was simply too poor for the plan to have had worked. His eyes honed in on the man he called 'big brother', his former idol, and the very villain he had sought to catch and eliminate until he had inevitably discovered his identity. And all it took was the loss of his bending.

"Noatak," Tarrlok greeted coolly in turn, testing the strength of his binds. Just as expected when it came to his all-too intelligent older brother, they were strong and sturdy. Even if he could break free, Noatak would be able to suppress him with his blood bending. He was surprised he even was still alive after the terrible deed he had committed. Or, at least tried to.

Recognizing the fact that his younger sibling desired to speak no further, looking just as ruffled as his hair, messed from all of the fighting from its neat braids and plastered to his skin with salt water, Noatak smirked. While scuffed and bruised, also withholding a minor concussion, he felt that he was still in mint condition. His body was strong, trained to endure the worst of times, and this had certainly been a doozy. Tucking another broken twig into the fire, which gobbled it up greedily, Noatak chuckled as Tarrlok merely simmered.  
"That had certainly been a close one, eh? It had been foolish of me to suppose it alright to leave those gloves on board, especially after our little… Disagreement."  
Remembering the painful process of losing his bending, the lack of power and the utter hopelessness that had plagued his being like a disease, Tarrlok gritted his teeth and averted his eyes from Noatak. Noatak sighed, shaking his head while clucking his tongue in scolding.

"Tsk, tsk, Tarrlok. I extend my hand in kindness and you blow up our boat. It is sheer luck that we are alive. And you should be grateful that you survived."

Tarrlok grimaced, turning his face from Noatak in disdain, no longer cloaked by a visage void of emotion. "If it hadn't been for your insane ideals, then we wouldn't be here. You are too much like father," muttered Tarrlok in bitter confession, only to tense when catching a glimpse of Noatak's expression molding into a look of fury.  
"Don't compare him to me! I am nothing like that scoundrel, that rat!"  
The words were sharp and cutting, the underlying pain taking Tarrlok aback and he felt the compassion he always felt towards his brother shift towards the surface. Face darkening, he continued to hold it downcast, not wanting to meet Noatak's eyes so full of rage.  
"… My apologies."

Tense and angry, Noatak slowly managed to relax himself, settling back from his partly risen position. Simmering, he glowered into the flames, the two brothers lost in their silence. From a cool-toned, one way conversation, their differences had been made clear, the siblings no longer as close as they had been as children. That had been identified well enough.  
Finally, his melodramatic sigh piercing the thick silence that coated them in a heavy blanket, Noatak brushed his brunette hair from his eyes, clumped slightly together with seawater, pursing his lips.  
"I do not know of our location, if you happen to be wondering," stated Noatak in a very professional tone in efforts to speak beyond their shared blood, but rather as two men lost on some foreign island. "I explored some while you were unconscious and while it had still been remotely light out, but it would so appear we lack any other company. A pity, too, considering the medical assistance would be much appreciated."

Glancing up to the dark, starry sky, Noatak absently massaged his sore left bicep, the arm that had been hugging Tarrlok's body close to him when he had brought them both to shore. Silent again, it was left that way, Noatak finding there to be nothing else to report as he instead focused on calculating how long it would take for the both of them to recover and how long it would take to get off the island. Tarrlok. On the other hand, wondered for how much longer the spirits would force him to endure his brother's company. It was if they knew of his love for him, the brotherly affection that had remained throughout the years despite the other man's blatant flaws. It was something he loathed now, now that he knew exactly what Noatak was.

He was the exact replica of their father, driven by different motives but all too the same. He desired revenge against benders for what he had been forced to endure, ignoring his own capabilities to instead hone a lifestyle of non-bending. Within his mind benders had obtained an aura of evil, all because of the training their father made them do. The trials, the torment, the abuse. It had broken Noatak.  
Tarrlok hadn't realized how much it had caused Noatak to snap until now, how much damage had really been done since the day he had initially run away. The day they had been told to bloodbend each other, only for Noatak to turn upon their father in rage.  
It was a feeling he did not want to discover again, kin to the sensation of losing his bending. It was a pain he found nearly unbearable; death would be better. And all those people they had used this curse upon,_ their_ curse…  
Tarrlok closed his eyes as though to try and block out the memory of the faces of those he had used his power against, the agony and the sheer terror. He was almost glad Noatak had removed his bending from him. Now, if his anger got the best of him, all he could do was raise a clenched fist. Even that was better than to feel one's very body turn against them.

"Tarrlok. You are thinking too much, it is late. Go to sleep."  
The soothing murmur took him off guard, eyes snapping back open to see Noatak curled up upon the soft sand, head propped up on his arm, which was being utilized as a makeshift pillow. One eye open and the other closed; even with his gaze partly diminished it was still like he could view into his very mind. Tarrlok felt exposed, naked despite the damp clothes that were conformed to his muscular body under the scrutinizing gaze of Noatak. Rather than vocalize his discomfort, Tarrlok merely turned his gaze away, lay back down, and tried his best to sleep.

-x-

While it had been difficult to initially doze, once sleep overtook Tarrlok's mind, it was there to stay for the rest of the night. Such bliss was not available to Noatak, who instead found himself restless and constantly pacing about their temporary campsite, if it could even be called such, as he thought over how they would escape. More so, he thought of what he would do with Tarrlok. His love for his brother went beyond needing to be said, but he was paranoid that the former waterbender would attempt to kill them both again. Kin or not, he seemed set on not letting Noatak freely leave and start a new life. It was reasonable. With violence in his very blood, Noatak could not resist the teachings of their father. The desire for revenge.

Pausing, his thoughts forcing themselves away from recollection of Yakone, he instead directed his attention upon Tarrlok. As he anticipated, the younger was sound asleep, though quaking faintly from the cold. Island or not, this place lacked an exotic warmth that would have been appreciated after being dumped into the freezing ocean. And as he peered in closer, Noatak thought he saw a pink tint to Tarrlok's cheeks. That was not good.

Footsteps soft as to not disturb the other's much-needed rest, he crouched, gently touching the back of his palm to the other's partly exposed forehead, Tarrlok having managed to tuck his head against his chest to get comfortable. Noatak grimaced as he found the result he had expected but had hoped wouldn't turn out to be true. Tarrlok was burning up, flesh high in temperature with a raging fever. He had his fears that their dip in the ocean had done even more harm than just nearly drowning them, and now they had been confirmed.

Sighing, he fully sat as he pondered what actions would have to be taken, hand lingering absently upon Tarrlok's cheek. The younger didn't seem to mind in his sleep, hardly even noticing Noatak's presence.

With their lack of medical supplies and Noatak's inability to heal with the water presented, or any water at all, they were certainly in quite the pickle. He was certainly more of a fighter than a healer, his knowledge incredibly basic. It was an amazing feat that he had survived running away from his brother and father all those years ago. Now here he was, stuck with Tarrlok who had taken fever, both injured, and trapped upon this island with no help on the horizon and no ability to get off. Remembering his hand and where it lay, he was prompt to retrieve it, trying to brush aside how long he had allowed it to remain so close to Tarrlok by running his fingers through his hair in efforts to comb it free of knots and tangles.

"We'll figure something out," he decided in a murmur as he daintily removed his Equalist coat, trying not to disturb his injuries that still screamed in protest at even the slightest removal of the article of clothing. The shirt beneath clung to his skin due to sweat and saltwater, though it wasn't noticed as he draped his coat over Tarrlok in efforts to better ward off the chill of the night.

Standing, Noatak hesitated to observe his brother's rest for a moment longer, turning to head deep into the tangle of jungle that covered the island they were situated upon as to search for more firewood. They would certainly need whatever warmth they could gather, until Noatak could figure out some kind of escape.  
If it was even possible.

**Author's Note;;**

By my own mental encouragement and the ushering of others, I've decided to continue this fic. It'll probably only be three or four chapters depending on my muse, because how in the world can I leave this fic off on such a wavering note? More than likely this'll turn into something fluffy/angst filled, considering we all love that stuff. Maybe into something more. I do enjoy myself some romance, but we will have to see.

Thank you to those who have reviewed, offered criticism, and have favorited and followed this story! You guys are really helping me into stirring the motivation to write this to life, and I truly thank you for that.


	3. Chapter 3

Snow bit and lashed, clawing at a thick parka dyed in colors of blue. Southern Water Tribe colors. The white, crystalline liquid clung to strands of brunette that flew about in the harsh winter winds, the arctic surroundings both familiar and unfamiliar. How many years since he had last been here? Ten? Twenty? Time had flown by all too fast and yet here he was again, legs shorter than he remembered sunk deep in the white beneath him, clothes he didn't recall putting on hugging close to his body. Despite their purpose being to supply warmth, none of it was felt as the wind seeped through and clung to his very bones with a particular stubbornness.

Hugging his arms close to himself, the former man, now child, gawked at his hands. So small, so soft. They weren't the large, calloused things he was accustomed to.

Then a voice drifted to him, flowing just barely over the scream of the storm around him. It was as sweet as honey and full of nostalgia that broke his heart, a younger Tarrlok looking up from his enraptured state.

Every thought of his change from an adult to a child and how in the world this mysterious feat had occurred melted away, replaced by a distress all too familiar and a childish need. Standing several lengths from his point was Noatak, though like himself, returned to his younger self. The storm became numb to his ears, something hardly capable of being heard as a tentative step forward was taken, his mouth opening though no words coming out. Noatak spoke instead; repeating himself for Tarrlok couldn't recall what he had said just moments before.

"Why didn't you come with me, brother?" asked Noatak, voice flat, expression mimicking this with perfection. "Tarrlok, we could have been together. We never would have been separated. But you left me. You left me for _him_."

Tarrlok flinched, looking quite upset as he took another careful step, his booted foot sinking deep into the heavy snow. It stuck to his cheeks and melted into his hair, cold droplets trickling down his face.  
"I didn't want to!" he cried. "I didn't want to leave you! Noatak, Noatak I love you! Let's start again, l-let's try. I want… I want to be with my brother, don't leave me again. I had been so scared, I couldn't think."  
Tears welled up in the corners of Tarrlok eyes as he sniffed loudly, a sob building in his throat as his slim, adolescent body quaked faintly.

Expecting warmth to melt that cold visage of his older brother's, for him to come and wrap him in that familiar, comforting hug that always arrived when Tarrlok was upset, none of this turned out true. Noatak's expression remained indifferent to Tarrlok's anguish, his words falling upon deaf ears as his brother shook his head in bitter disappointment.  
"What a liar. I had thought you were better than that, Tarrlok," sighed the older, his words carrying sadness that only continued to serve to break Tarrlok's heart.

"B-brother," blubbered Tarrlok as his tears streaked down his face, taking a few stumbling steps forward, reaching out in hope of acceptance. Noatak had already turned, beginning to walk into the storm itself, his parka-clad back slowly eaten by the whirling snow. Horrified, Tarrlok tried to take pursuit, desperate to fix their relationship, to get his older brother back, only to stumble and crash to the ground. The snow chilled his skin as he panted, looking back up to see Noatak gone. In despair, his eyes hunted about for any suggestion of where he had gone, but already the snow had smoothed away any tracks.

"Noatak? Noatak?"

His sobs grew heavy, causing his entire body to shake violently as his hands, clutched by mittens that didn't warm them in the slightest, clawed into the snow.

"_NOATAK!_"

"Tarrlok, wake up!"

Warm sunlight splashed across a face that formerly felt so cold, eyes snapping open to a world of color and sunshine. From the spacious tundra Tarrlok found himself again back to the lonesome island he and Noatak were trapped upon, reality sinking in as his rapidly beating heart began to calm. Eyes turning to where he had heard the sharp words of his brother, he found Noatak appearing relieved to see that he was awake.

"You were screaming my name, brother. Did you have a nightmare?"

Anger flashed across Tarrlok's face as he jerked into an upright position, body language tense and angry as he found his hands still bound. Apparently, even with Noatak being awake first, he had yet to be set free from his binds. They were pointless, anyway. Tarrlok knew that Noatak could easily subdue him, and he knew that Noatak realized this. Yet still he suffered with the pointless restriction of his hands.

"No, I'm just fine," Tarrlok bit out venomously, eyes narrowed to slits as he leered at his older brother, shifting away from his blatantly concerned sibling. Noatak had certainly softened from his professional mannerisms from the night before, his true emotions towards his sibling beginning to surface. A tender love nurtured to life by childhood and brought back by the sight of Tarrlok's distress, arriving in the form of a tentative hand upon the younger's shoulder.

It was promptly shaken off, Tarrlok incapable of lifting a hand to brush it aside. His eye brows furrowed and he averted his eyes to hide the need he felt for comfort, deemed as childish and inappropriate. He was a fully grown man, not the child he had once been, easily falling into the arms of Noatak when it came to times of need. Now was certainly one of those moments, but he refused to give in. It was something he would not allow himself to do, not after what Noatak had done.

Seeing Tarrlok's agitation, Noatak withdrew his outstretched hand, reclining back on his heels, having crouched down to check on his brother. A frown pursed his lips, the self-confident air he usually carried having faded for the time being. Tarrlok's lack of willingness would hardly assist in them getting off of the island and beginning a new life. If that was even plausible, with Tarrlok seemingly quite against the idea of doing any such thing.  
Not that Noatak could necessarily blame him.  
They had both gone through quite a bit.

Silent, Noatak picked through his mind to try and figure out something to say. Anything that may help in rebuilding their lost trust. His eyes trailed down to Tarrlok's wrists, rubbed raw by the thick leaves that bound them.

Tarrlok flinched when Noatak suddenly drew close again, unsure of what to expect. What he certainly didn't have on his list of things to anticipate from his older brother was for him to loosen the leaves upon his wrists, letting them go slack and fall away. Almost immediately, Tarrlok drew up his hands to rub at his aching wrists, glancing warily at Noatak, his motives unknown. It was certainly a change, though, that he appreciated.

"I believe now is the time we start rebuilding our trust," decided Noatak with a smile, holding out a hand to Tarrlok. "Why can we not be brothers again, Tarrlok?"  
Remembering his dream and his desperation to reconcile with Noatak, Tarrlok stared indifferently down at the hand extended to him.  
His fears, his hidden wishes, his uncertainties were all presented before him in a neat and orderly line within his mind.  
Then there arrived the image of the sobbing little boy collapsed in the snow, screaming out his big brother's name over and over in hopes of being heard and listened to. Was this Noatak's outcry to him, made subtle by that warm smile and presented hand?

The look of delight upon Noatak's face was something that warmed Tarrlok's heart, so slow in healing from old wounds, as he somehow found it in himself to accept it, his own hand wrapping around Noatak's. So similar, yet so different. Brothers, that was what they were, and that was what they would forever be, wouldn't it?

Tarrlok found a smile gently raising the corners of his lips, wary and uncertain as he raised his eyes to Noatak's.  
Perhaps it was time to salvage something from this carnage.

**END**

**Author's Note;;**

Yes, I realize as a final chapter it is rather short, but I feel like this story shouldn't go on for very long. I have a lot planned in my mind for stories to off-shoot from this one, the next one in story being a slash fic. I AM currently in the works of writing another Noalok one-shot, this one encouraged by my good friend Kirsten! ;D So be expecting that very soon. Thank you to those who have followed this short story and apologies to those who are not slash-lovers for my next multi-chapter fic involving these brothers. Perhaps in the future I will write another non-slash fic?


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